Of Sinners And Saints

Maybe it was fate, destiny, even, or maybe it was just Karma fucking with him because of that one time when he hung Patrick up on the flagpole with his underwear, which, by the way, he didn't even know was possible, and giving him a major wedgie in the process, but Frank suddenly found himself sitting on a fucking airplane, going all the way across the country.

Or, y'know, maybe it was the fact that his parents were dead, yes, fucking dead, but Frank would rather not focus on that at this point. In his opinion, he had bigger things to worry about. One of them, of course, being that he was being shipped off to Minnesota.

Really, of all the orphanages to be sent to, he was being sent to one in Minnesota? Aren't they, like, famous for cheese, or something? God, even Texas would have been better.

But hey, at least he didn't have to listen to Brendon ramble on about 'Ryan' and 'milk'. Frank reckoned he could avoid three or four Skype calls before he had to listen about Brendon's fucked up sexcapades again.

It really wasn't any better than the seat he was currently sitting in, though.

There was a fucking four-month-old screaming in front of him, which, he'd be glad to strangle to sleep at this point, and an annoying 12-year-old digging his knees into his back behind him. Fucking kids, man.

Checking his watch, Frank realized that it was exactly 2:01 am, which, was perfectly fine with him, of course. He wasn't panicking at all, no no no. Ted Mosby's mom was full of shit, obviously. After all, didn't he have his daughter after 2 am? Granted, his kids were little annoying assholes, and he'd really like to slap them in the face most of the time. But, no, he wasn't at all wondering if the plane would run out of fuel and plummet to the ground, killing them all, at the moment. He just needed sleep, is all.

God, he didn't even know the last time he got even a blink of sleep. His insomnia was really catching up with him lately, and, frankly, he really wasn't in the mood to be staying up all night. Having to deal with his thoughts during the day was enough, thank you.

But, of course, that was beside the point. The fact that he was being sent to some place in Minnesota, where people talk with freaky accents and bury themselves in snow most of the time was what really should be focusing on right now.

Honestly, it was a mystery to him why they were bothering to send him to that hell-hole in the first place. After all, he did just turn 17, like, last month, so why couldn't they just stick him with some distant relative until he turned 18, or something?

Frank just hoped he would get out of this death-trap alive.

Notes

i need to stop starting fics jfc kms.

obviously, I have nothing against Minnesota or the Christian community, those are just Frank's opinions lmao.

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also, special thanks to my friends selene on ig (real_td_gamez), who was practically forcing me to put this up. love you xo